Summary

“I’m not better than you, but we’re not the same, either,” Robb said.

Jon pulled back, looked at him. “I’m more the same as you than anyone,” he said, croaking, cracking. And Robb knew what he meant to say, and hugged him again for it even though boys weren’t supposed to hug like this, they both knew that.

The Starks run the deals on their housing estate. Jon hangs out at their house and stays in Robb's room. Asking questions is not encouraged, and maybe, neither of them want to know anymore.

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Summary

There are nights where Theon lies awake in his chambers, lazily stroking himself as he imagines that he is the one Robb sneaks off with. That he’s the one to make the future heir of Winterfell moan like a whore. That it’s his name Robb calls out when he comes.

Because Theon knows he is infinitely more worthy of such an honor than Jon Snow.

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Summary

She can't get used to being back at Winterfell, where everything is the same and yet not at all, where Jon stares into the flames and Sansa stares at the scars on the walls, and nobody really feels at home anymore.

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Summary

She sees him again for the first time in years across a field of corpses and melting snow, and she grips her sword tighter, remembering when his smile was the only thing in the world she'd wanted to see.

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Summary

Winterfell had burned but its godswood still stood, boughs glistening with the night's snowfall. Jon was surprised to find someone there. Her face was shadowed in the half-light, angular and calm and strangely familiar.